I love my husband very much. He would do anything for me. And in a world of so much uncertainty, the promise of loyalty is incredibly alluring. We met and married because he wanted to protect me from the world that would destroy me. And I took advantage of that desire. The love came later. But it’s there. And it is overpowering some days. How much one person can love another. How it can eat you alive when they’re lost or hurt. Knowing there is nothing you’re not capable of if someone hurt them.
But the world doesn’t operate on gut instinct and a need for revenge. Things would be very different otherwise.
On Friday, a man stood outside the correctional facility where James works and opened fire. He had an automatic weapon which he purchased after being let go from his job as a cook there. Two officers were killed, three people were injured, and the man got away. It all happened in about ten minutes.
I waited eleven years to get the phone call telling me that my husband wasn’t coming home. And when news came of what had happened and a moment later, my phone rang. I almost didn’t answer it.
My heart broke before I even accepted the call. And that pain became anger at the person who took him from me. I swore – I actually swore – that I would end his life very slowly.
James is alive.
Casey thought I was crazy when my legs gave out and I sat on the floor for rest of the phone call. I was so relieved and barely heard the details.
Injured in the line of duty and at the hospital waiting for surgery.
He’s alive. His leg is pretty mangled but he gets to keep it and I will be with him through every step of his recovery. I didn’t leave his side for four days. I smelled like shit – living in a hospital will do that – and thank god Casey had the forethought to come after school and bring a change of clothes and do her homework in his room.
But then I took her home. James reminded me that I have other responsibilities and my being there would not change anything, but it would do wonders to be there for the young girl at home.
He’s coming home today. The doctors said there’s nothing left to do but recover. He’ll go back for physical therapy and other treatments but he gets to come home. Thank god for government jobs with decent health insurance. We’re not completely paying out of pocket. Completely.
Words cannot describe how happy I am that my husband is alive and safe and coming home to me.
But someone hurt him. Someone hurt the love of my life. Someone has eluded the authorities. That someone is tied up in my basement.
He will die. Slowly. I’m going to bleed him. And when he tries to die, I will save him. So I can do it over again. And then I’m going to let Casey learn how long it takes to drain a body of blood. How much sound proofing is required to drown out the sounds of screaming. How much pressure it takes to sever a finger. And then ten. She will learn how to kill and I will keep him alive as long as possible. He will be a head, loose from its body. Begging for death. And I still won’t grant it.
We’re going to christen the new house with blood.
And it sure as fuck will make me feel better.
As always, dear readers,
Stay out of the basement